


Good Samaritan

by cuddlesome



Series: Reylo Monster Week [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Blood and Injury, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Canon Universe, Crash Landing, F/M, Jakku, Medical Examination, Monster Rey, Naga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 11:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16474835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddlesome/pseuds/cuddlesome
Summary: Rey is torn about whether she should save or eat a downed First Order pilot.





	Good Samaritan

It had become increasingly apparent to Rey why her parents abandoned her as she grew up. With each passing day, each new tally etched by her claws, she seemed to grow more abnormal.

 

She’s no one species of human or alien, looking like a mutant ill-suited to the desert. Plutt had once theorized to her in a drunken ramble that she had been affected by radiation leaking from starships in the graveyard, but that made no sense. No one else on Jakku looked anything like her with fangs or claws or most obvious of all, the scaly, muscular tail. The scales have started creeping up her concave belly as of late. They might one day reach her breasts, then her shoulders, then her face. The thought is sickening.

 

The teedos thought that she was cursed by R’iia. She scoffed at their claims, but once she left an offering outside of her home during a sandstorm on the off-chance they were right. Nothing came of it. If anything, her fangs felt sharper, her tongue longer, and her heavy serpentine lower body sank deeper into the sand than before.

 

Rey herself does not know what to believe about her condition. She only hopes her parents will return and rescue her despite it.

 

Until then, she’ll continue to scavenge to support herself. Deep down, she knows that the portions are ill-suited to feed her. Her huge body has been wasting away thanks to both the small amount Plutt provides and the low nutritional value of each package. She’s not starving, not yet, but she teeters on the brink.

 

Her stomach rumbles in anticipation when a TIE fighter crashes a few hundred feet away from her right in the center of the Starship Graveyard. One of the twin wings snaps off on impact, leaving the ship with one more sharp pair of sheet wings that follows its partner as it rolls, leaving splintered pieces on the sides. The remains of the ship comes to a stop with an almighty clang against the large hull of the _Inflictor._

 

Rey scares off the other scavengers that begin to run toward it with a hiss and a lunge in their direction. She drags herself up onto the side of the ship’s hull with her well-muscled arms. It’s strangely built, more like a bolt of plasma than the usual orbicular shape, but it’s unmistakably a TIE. Probably an experimental model. That experiment failed based on this graceless landing.

 

Popping the broken front view port of the TIE off with her staff is a practiced movement as easy as breaking the shell off of a hardboiled egg. Despite it nearly being sunset, the sun is heating the metal of the ship up. At the moment the hull is probably a nice temperature to sunbathe on, like her AT-AT at twilight. It won’t stay that way for long, though, turning searing hot. She has to work quickly before any of the valuable machinery inside gets damaged by the heat. Rey pulls herself inside, able to force her upper half and a quarter of her tail inside. It’s a tight fit, as this is a one-man ship. The meat of her tail is squeezed hard on both sides. It’s going to ache later when she’s curled up in her hammock.

 

Rey pays no mind to the corpse slumped in the pilot seat, avoiding touching it as much as she’s able as she works at the controls in front of it, breaking off bits and pieces to get at the hardware.

 

That is until the corpse moves.

 

A boot twitches against the side of her tail. Rey starts, then whips around to look at the pilot, hissing. The dark helm, irregular from the usual stormtrooper ones she recognizes, lifts slightly off of where it is slumped against one unarmored shoulder. It only makes it an inch or so. There is a moan of static, then the head sinks back down.

 

Rey tilts her own head to one side. She really ought to have noticed that the ship’s sole inhabitant is alive sooner. She flicks her tongue out, tasting the pilot’s scent. A man. He may not be a stormtrooper, but he smells exactly like one that’s just been on a Star Destroyer. An escapee?

 

Rey knows of the First Order. Even if he is a runaway, this man is no doubt more of a monster than she is. She really should just leave him here.

 

Then again… if she rescues him and he turns out to be bad news, she can always eat him. The thought gets juices churning in both of her stomachs.

 

And so, she pries him from his wrecked ship and brings him home. She considers putting him amongst the scrap she collected but decides against it. Being dragged through the sand cannot be good for someone with a head injury. Rey drapes his limp body over the meatiest part of her tail instead. His weight is leaden and she has to put her back in it to move along at a decent pace without jarring him too much. It’s late enough in the day now that she estimates his dark outfit won’t cook him in the time it takes her to get home.

 

Once she arrives at her AT-AT, she props him up against one of the inner walls. Rey considers him for a moment, tasting the air. It’s unlikely that he could in his condition, especially since she had taken and hidden what she perceived to be his weapon, but he could wake up fighting. She pushes him away from the wall and circles around him, wrapping him up with her serpentine lower body. It takes one more wraparound than usual for her to feel she’s secured the man; he’s much bigger in height and weight than Plutt’s usual hired goons that she’s had to put in his position.

 

Rey sets about stripping his upper body bare. She can’t figure out how to take the helmet off, so she leaves that for last, instead focusing her attention on removing his layered outfit first, locating the zippers and clumsily opening them with her claws and tearing into the cloth if she can’t.

 

She spans a hand across his shoulder as she examines him. Yes, he’s far too pale to be from Jakku. She eyes his bulky, muscular torso that she has had to wrap up so much. Far too well-fed, too.

 

Gulping him down while he is unconscious might be the best option. Her second stomach would be full--really full!--for days. She could spend time lounging on the sand sunning herself and digesting an over-sized First Order pilot instead of scavenging. Then again, maybe eating such a meal would be dangerous. Suppose this huge man got partway down her throat and then got stuck right at his wide chest. Rey swallows. There's a reason she's never attempted to eat Plutt. Well. That and a hundred other reasons.

 

Reluctantly, she gets out a medkit she'd had to trade twenty portions for. She doesn't know why she's feeling so charitable today.

 

There are cuts on his chest and arms where presumably the broken transparisteel had sliced him, but they’re flesh wounds. Rey spreads a thin, precious layer of bacta over them before pinning his arms back to his sides with a squeeze of her tail.

 

Rey turns her attention to the helmet again. It looks absurd on top of his bared upper half. She gropes at the flared out back of it, then the sides, where she locates two well-hidden buttons.

 

She makes a pleased noise high in her throat as she presses them and removes the helmet.

 

Once it’s off, Rey puts her hand under his chin, half on his throat, and lifts his head up. The face that’s revealed is more unremarkable than she would have thought, not one that matches the deep rumbling noise that had come out of the helmet. She half-expected… half-hoped, even… that she’d uncover someone as bestial as her. Still, her gaze lingers on the muddle of soft and sharp features on his countenance longer than she’d care to admit.

 

Rey is feeling around on his head for any sign of injury, clawing through his silky hair, when he wakes up. His body goes tense against her tail before his eyes snap open, but it’s little warning. He rallies quickly, considering how long he’d been out. He rips his head from her grasp with a thrash. Much to Rey’s consternation, he ends up hurting himself further with this motion: one of her claws catches on his forehead and rips down his face, narrowly missing his eye. More wasted bacta. He’s so ungrateful.

 

Rey hisses and squeezes him with her tail, constricting until his violent motions cease and he’s going red in the face with restricted airflow and no small amount of anger. The man pants through his sizable nose in a way that makes her feel self-conscious about the tiny slitty nostrils that constitute hers.

 

She puts her hands back on either side of his head, probing for injuries again. Her tongue flicks out to taste the scent of fresh blood. She smears her thumb across the wound, trying to gauge how deep it is. Again she considers simply eating him rather than going to more trouble. She works her jaw thoughtfully and eyes the great span of his shoulders.

 

Meanwhile the man looks at her with hatred and disgust, which she’s more than used to and only a little offended by.

 

“Where am I?” He asks through his teeth.

 

Rey considers for a moment, then sibilates, “You’re my guest.”

 

He doesn’t seem satisfied with that answer at all.


End file.
